In Sickness And In Health (But Annoying Either Way)
by Unoriginality
Summary: Steve and Bucky decide to annoy each other for a day when Steve gets sick and Bucky becomes his nursemaid. (Also, author's notes and I am so sorry for them.)


A/N: I hate writing these things. I do. But here we go anyway.

I know some of you actively follow me for these fics, and I am very, very, _very_ grateful for you. I'm grateful for readers who don't follow me, too. I love you all, you are awesome. But to you who follow me, you've probably noticed the very slow updates. And I am so sorry to you guys for that. I have been battling a _massive_ upper respiratory infection for over a month now, and I still haven't fully kicked it. I haven't wandered off anywhere, I haven't abandoned anyone, I've just been sick.

So I wrote this, because hotdamnit, I am not suffering alone.

* * *

Normally, Steve was the first to the kitchen in the morning, leaving it to him to brew the coffee. Which was fine for Bucky, because Steve had a particularly crappy-ass coffee maker that really needed to be trashed and replaced. But, Steve was still something of a penny pincher, a hold over from the Depression, so Bucky simply continued to leave handling that monstrosity to Steve. He figured that Steve would eventually break down and pitch it.

But that morning, Steve hadn't even gotten out of bed before Bucky did. They normally woke at roughly the same time, but with only one bathroom, Bucky simply lounged in bed for the five minutes it took Steve in the bathroom before getting up and taking his turn. Bucky wasn't sure if he should be concerned by the fact that Steve hadn't woken at their usual time or not. On one hand, it was very unusual, which was cause for worry. On the other, it wasn't like Steve wasn't allowed to sleep a little longer than normal. The serum hadn't made him into a robot or anything.

That first hand was the one that had more of an argument in Bucky's mind, in large part because he'd spent most of his life playing the fussy caretaker that aggravated Steve over every little thing out of the norm. In Bucky's defense, if he hadn't been a fussy caretaker, Steve wouldn't have gotten treatment for his scarlet fever, since it was Bucky that first noticed that Steve was acting sick and didn't look so good.

So Bucky's old habits won over logic.

He sat up in bed, crossing his legs underneath him to keep his feet warm in the cold apartment, studying Steve, trying to decide if Steve was still sleeping, or just not wanting to come out from under the warm covers. It was kinda cold in there, and if Bucky hadn't been worried, he'd probably have stayed under his blankets, too.

"Steve?" He kept his voice low enough, just in case Steve actually was still asleep. Bucky didn't want to wake him if he was.

Steve made an unhappy noise, pulling the covers up over his head. "Please don't talk so loud," he said with a distinct whine in his voice that Bucky was used to hearing any time Steve was sick.

"One of your migraines?" It was the first thing that came to mind; Steve managed to grin and bear it through backaches and asthma attacks and his heart acting up, but the migraines he'd get from his astigmatism tended to knock him out. Even Achilles had his heel.

Steve's response was another whine, but no words accompanied it.

"I can get you some Tylenol," Bucky offered.

"It's not my head," Steve said, loud enough this time that Bucky could hear that his voice was a bit rough. "Just stop talking or put me out of my misery."

"You're sick."

"I'm not sick," Steve protested. "I don't get sick. I don't want to be sick."

Bucky sighed, getting up off his bed and walking over to Steve's bed. "Steve? You're sick. You only ask to be put out of your misery when you're sick."

The blankets shifted as Steve curled up underneath them, pretty much entirely hidden by them. "I'm not sick. I don't get sick. I haven't gotten sick since the serum."

"So?" Bucky crouched down by Steve's bed. "Having an improved immune system doesn't mean a perfect one. Move the blankets before I yank them off."

Steve's hand appeared to grab more of the blanket and grip it harder. "I'm not coming out. You can't make me."

Bucky grabbed the blanket with his left hand and yanked it free from Steve's hand. Steve curled up tighter, his hand quickly moving to cover his right ear. "Gimme back those blankets, Bucky, before I freeze to death and haunt you for eternity."

"That'll be an interesting trick, since you were frozen for decades and yet, here you are," Bucky said, putting his flesh wrist against Steve's forehead. Good god, he was burning up. "You have a fever. You are sick. I am taking you to the doctor, if I have to hit you over the head and drag you."

Steve finally opened his eyes to look at Bucky like a kicked puppy. "I hate doctors."

Bucky gave him a barely tolerant look. "Steve? You don't have to worry about being told your heart's going bad again or anything." He frowned, noticing that Steve hadn't moved his hand from what had been his bad ear before the serum. "Your ear is hurting?"

The sound Steve made was completely uncooperative, but answered well enough in spite of itself. "You're just too loud."

Bucky grabbed Steve's wrist, pulling it away from Steve's ear. Steve didn't seem to have it in him to resist. "Okay, you're really sick," Bucky said. "You're not fighting me." While Steve gave him a grumpy look, Bucky gently probed around Steve's neck, just under the jaw by the ear. "And your glands are swollen. You have an ear infection again."

Steve gave him a weary glare. "What do you mean 'again'? I haven't an ear infection since-"

"-the serum, I know," Bucky finished. "But you aren't invincible, you can still get sick."

The look on Steve's face was so pathetic that for a moment, Bucky thought they were back in the past, before the army, before the war. Steve was an unpleasant patient when sick with little things, but so much of that had been his stupid pride, upset more that something small had managed to knock him down after he survived so much else. The proverbial straw on the proverbial camel.

"You're going to make me go to the doctor, aren't you?" Steve grumbled.

Bucky almost gave in and said no, feeling vaguely guilty because of how unhappy the idea was making Steve, but almost three decades of taking care of Steve and three younger siblings had taught him how to stand up to that particular trip because his fussing was for their own damn good. "Yes, I am. You have insurance and can afford the co-pay, it's not like this is going to eat into your food budget."

Seeing that this argument was not going to be won, Steve sighed. "Fine. I hate you right now, though. And if you get sick, I'm subjecting you to the same thing."

Bucky stood, holding his hand out to help Steve up. "Sure, if I have a public identity by that time to assign medical records to."

Steve took Bucky's hand, sitting up slowly and closing his eyes briefly. "I hope whatever I have is catching so you can suffer with me."

"If I get sick too, who's going to take care of you?" Bucky demanded.

"Meh." He winced slightly as he put a hand over his sore ear. "You know, a doctor's not going to be able to help me. I can't have medicines."

It took a second before a sinking feeling of realization set in. "Your metabolism. Yeah. Damn."

Steve made a noise that might've been a half-hearted attempt at 'mmhmm.' "I couldn't even have pain killers at the hospital. Nothing stuck."

Bucky pointedly shoved the guilt that came with that aside; he could chew on his liver later with the knowledge that Steve had been in pain so long because Bucky had nearly killed him. For now, he had to figure out how to help Steve. Steve was in pain, and Bucky never liked feeling helpless to stop that.

"I'll just sleep it o-"

"Call Doctor Banner," Bucky interrupted Steve's attempt at dodging Bucky's caretaker instincts.

Steve looked so confused at first, that Bucky almost repeated himself. "He won't be able to help me either, Bucky."

"He might know of something that _will_ help."

Steve sighed. "Fine, you win." He stood and wobbled a bit, putting out his left arm to try to balance himself, keeping his right hand over his sore ear.

Bucky immediately stepped around to Steve's left side, putting an arm around his shoulders to steady him. "Dizzy?"

Steve took a couple deep breaths. "For a moment. I'm fine, Bucky, I can walk on my own."

"Promise you won't run into any walls?" Bucky said, not moving to let Steve walk without help just yet.

"Do you want me to spit on it?"

Bucky let go of Steve, stepping away. "Good to see being sick doesn't stop you from being a smart ass."

Steve smiled weakly, following Bucky out of the bedroom. "That just means you know I'll be fine."

"It also means you're going to be the most annoying patient on the planet," Bucky said, slowing his pace to walk next to Steve in case he got dizzy again.

"You deserve it," Steve said, looking like he wanted nothing more than to curl back up in bed and not emerge for a few days.

Bucky didn't blame him, being sick wasn't exactly an 'and a good time was had by all' situation. And as much as Bucky was bracing himself for Steve to be a whiny patient, he knew Steve had it far worse.

He didn't reply to Steve's statement, just hovered around Steve like an annoying fly while Steve seated himself at the table in front of his laptop. It seemed to take way too long for Steve to open the laptop and boot it up. The computer moved faster than he did. Bucky had to prod him to sign in, prod him to open his phone program, prod him to dial Bruce's number.

While they waited for Bruce to answer, Bucky moved to the side a bit, out of camera view, leaning his hip against the table. Steve looked ready to pass out in his chair.

Bruce's face appeared on the screen, but he wasn't looking at the camera, focusing on something to the side. "Hi, Cap," he said, then looked at the screen and drew his head back a bit. "So uh, you don't look like you're feeling well."

Steve's miserable look on his face didn't change. "Bucky thinks I have an ear infection."

"Don't blame me," Bucky said.

Bruce tilted his head as if trying to see Bucky, regardless of how fruitless an endeavor that was. "Hello, Bucky. I'd say it's nice to see you, but um. I can't see you."

"Just wanted you to get a full view of how sick this guy is," Bucky said.

Bruce nodded. "Yes, he- he looks very sick, yes. I'm surprised, I didn't think something like an ear infection could get past your immune system, Cap."

"That's what I said," Steve said. He sounded like he was trying very hard to whine without actually whining.

"But the fact that you called anyway says you feel sick," Bruce said, although it sounded almost like a question looking for confirmation.

Steve sighed, then shot Bucky a glare. "He likes to be right," he said, then turned back to the screen.

"So what are your symptoms?" Bruce asked. "What makes Bucky think you have an ear infection?"

Steve glanced up at Bucky again. Bucky gave him a stern look in return, and Steve made a half-hearted look of annoyance. "My right ear hurts, mostly. Down in my neck some. Bucky said my glands are swollen, and that I'm running a fever, but we don't have a thermometer to confirm that."

"Any dizziness?"

Steve shrugged. "A bit when I get up."

"Hm." Bruce was frowning slightly. He fiddled with a pencil, tapping it against his lips. "It does sound like an ear infection. Normally, I'd say antibiotics, but I suspect it wouldn't work well with how fast your body processes things."

There was another one of those side-long glares from Steve. "I told him that."

"With your immune system, you should be fine with just a few days rest. My only question is, how did Captain America get an ear infection in the first place?" Bruce set the pencil down. "Did you go swimming recently?"

Steve slowly looked up at Bucky. Bucky just as slowly looked over at Bruce. "He got dunked in a lake a couple days ago," he said.

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "How'd that happen?"

"Bad people doing bad things," Bucky said.

"Common event around here," Bruce said. "That's probably what caused it, then. I'd be willing to lay a couple bucks down on it."

Steve looked like he was starting to zone out except to lift his hand to cover his right ear. Bucky studied him a moment, wishing there was something he could do, before crouching down by Steve to be in the camera range. "Is there anything we can do besides make him sleep a lot?"

Bruce looked thoughtful a moment. "Well, a warm compress on his bad ear will help draw out the infection. Don't use a heating pad or anything like that, just a warm, damp washcloth, that way he won't burn if he falls asleep with it on. Do you have rubbing alcohol? Preferably ninety percent concentration?"

Bucky glanced back towards the hallway, thinking. "I think we do," he said. "If not, I can go get some."

"You can pour a very tiny amount of that into his bad ear, make him keep his head tilted to let the alcohol settle for about fifteen, thirty seconds. Then have him tilt his head the other way, drain his ear into a tissue or cotton ball. It's the same thing as 'Swimmer's Ear', just cheaper. It'll help dry up the excess fluid in his ear."

"What about his fever?" Bucky asked.

That seemed to stump Bruce for a moment. "Without a way of actually taking his temperature, the best thing I can say is to not let him bundle up too much. Alternate the warm compress on his ear with a cool compress on his forehead. That'll also help with any headaches the infection causes."

Before Bucky could say anything, Steve spoke up. "Don't bundle up- Bruce, it's forty degrees out. It's _cold._ That has nothing to do with having a fever."

"I said 'too much', Cap," Bruce reminded him. "Set your thermostat at around seventy degrees, and that'll eliminate the environmental factor. If you still feel excessively cold after that, then your fever is probably higher than you want and Bucky should dump you headfirst into a cool shower to bring down your body temperature."

Steve shriveled back in his chair, shooting a challenging look to Bucky.

Bucky returned it with a bland expression. "My left arm is stronger than you, Steve."

"Thank you for giving him ideas, Bruce," Steve grumbled.

Bruce chuckled. "Sorry. Just doing my job." He turned serious again. "If you don't feel better in about three days, call me. I may have to come out with my little black bag."

"Just like the old days," Bucky said, nudging Steve's shoulder.

"Because I missed them so much," Steve said.

Bucky let Steve say goodbye to Bruce while he went back to the bathroom to search the cupboards for some rubbing alcohol. He knew they had some, but he had no idea if it was the ninety or seventy percent stuff. Bruce had specified the ninety percent, and if they had the other, that'd mean that Bucky would have to leave Steve alone while he went to get the right kind.

He finally found their bottle of rubbing alcohol way at the back of the cupboard under the sink. He had no idea why the hell it'd gotten shoved all the way back there. He wiped the dust off the label; oh god, had it really been that long since they bought that? Or was there a serious need to clean out the cupboard in general?

Neither really mattered, what mattered was that the rubbing alcohol was ninety percent. Good. Bucky didn't have to go out to get any. He knew that Steve would be fine if left alone for the whole twenty minutes it'd take to pick some up, but that didn't mean Bucky had to like the idea.

With prize in hand, Bucky walked back out to the living area, not looking up from the bottle. "Steve, we-" he cut himself off as he glanced up to see Steve barely propped up on one elbow at the table, apparently dozed off. "Steve?"

Steve jumped, head nearly slipping off his hand and onto the table, and turned in his chair to look at Bucky, eyelids at half mast. "Huh? Oh, you found it." He yawned, face scrunching up in pain and his hand covering his right ear like that might ease the ache.

Bucky could sympathize; just because he'd been a healthy kid didn't mean he hadn't had his share of ear infections. "Here." He set the alcohol down on the table.

Steve picked it up with his left hand, right hand still cupped gently over his sore ear, and looked at it, before looking up at Bucky. "What, am I supposed to do this myself?"

"Don't be an ass," Bucky said, walking over to the end table by Steve's favorite chair and grabbing the tissue box that was sitting there. "I had to get these." He held up the box, then set it down on the table. "Unless you want cold rubbing alcohol dripping down your neck if my aim sucks."

If Bucky didn't already feel sorry for Steve, he might've laughed at the grumpy look Steve gave him. "Your aim better not suck."

"If it does, you are free to try to chase me down," Bucky said. "Move your hand and tilt your head." Steve made a face, but at least he didn't whine, and followed Bucky's directions. Bucky folded a tissue, then tucked it up under Steve's ear, being careful not to press down too hard. That area was probably pretty tender. "Gimme that," he said, holding out his left hand for the alcohol that Steve was holding.

"Please," Steve said, trying to sound like he was scolding Bucky's lack of manners and managing to only sound like a patient on his death bed. Sometimes Steve could be so dramatic.

"You're welcome," Bucky said, just to be annoying, as he took the bottle of alcohol from Steve and opened the cap. He elected to use his left hand to pour, it was far steadier, and he knew that stuff was going to be cold in Steve's ear, he didn't need to torture Steve further by letting it dribble all over the place.

Steve winced as Bucky started tipping the bottle, drops of the rubbing alcohol hitting Steve's ear. Bucky paused. "Steve, hold still."

"It's cold," Steve protested.

"Yeah, and if you hold still, you'll be able to drain it faster," Bucky said. "So hold still." He waited a moment while Steve took a deep breath, then stopped moving. Satisfied that Steve was going to be cooperative, Bucky went back to carefully pouring some rubbing alcohol into Steve's ear. It didn't take much before it pooled in the crevice of his ear, so Bucky moved the tissue, covering Steve's ear with it. "Hold that there," he said.

Steve did as he was told, turning his head slightly as Bucky grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and capped it, then started towards the back rooms. "Where are you going?"

"Putting this away," Bucky said. "You can just sit there and wait for me to get back." He paused mid-step as something else occurred to him. He looked back at Steve. "Let me guess, you're going to want to go back to sleep after this?"

At first, Steve didn't answer, looking like he was either considering that, or zoning out and hadn't heard Bucky at all. Finally, he shrugged. "Probably."

Not offering an explanation for his question just yet, Bucky nodded once, then went to the bathroom to put the alcohol away, although 'putting away' ended up just being 'set it on the counter for later'. Before heading back to the main living area, he made a stop in the bedroom and grabbed Steve's pillow and top blanket, bundling them up and dragging them back out with him.

"Bucky? What's taking you so damn long?"

Bucky bit back a sigh as he rounded the corner from the hallway. "Have some patience," he said. "How the hell can you handle a concussion like it's nothing, but an ear infection turns you into a whiny five year old?"

"Because a concussion isn't stupid," Steve griped, finally looking over at him. "Why did you bring my bedding?"

Bucky dumped the bedding on the couch. "Because if you're going to sleep all day, you're sleeping out here so you don't have to shout across the apartment at me if you need something."

"You are the single most annoying caretaker in the world," Steve said. "Can I get this stuff out of my ear, yet?"

Bucky didn't look up from arranging the bedding on the couch so Steve didn't have to untangle a wadded up blanket to lay down. "You mean you hadn't already?"

Steve made an indignant and very rude noise. "You told me to wait for you."

Bucky looked up at him and raised a surprised eyebrow. "You mean you actually listened to me?"

"I hate you, Bucky," Steve said, tilting his head the other way. His eyes crossed, then squeezed shut as he straightened his head, using the tissue to poke at his ear a bit. "Remind me to never put that stuff in my ear again, unless I have a burning desire to watch the room spin."

"Or unless you get another infection," Bucky said.

"Which will never happen," Steve said, rubbing his forehead. He looked so miserable, Bucky almost wanted to hug him around the shoulders like when they were kids, but Steve had gotten progressively more annoyed by that as time had passed. Bucky figured it was just rising frustration over the health issues. This was the first time they'd been around each other when Steve was sick or otherwise a medical patient in some form since the serum, so he wasn't sure it'd be any more welcome now than it had been the last time Steve had gotten sick.

Instead of doing that, Bucky decided to look for something else to try to cheer Steve up with before banishing him to the couch to sleep off the infection as much as he could. "So you hope," he said in reply to Steve's statement, walking to the kitchen. "Just hope you don't go diving into another lake." He hopped up onto the counter, digging into the cupboard above the fridge.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, as if he thought Bucky had gone completely banana-brained or something.

Bucky didn't answer, just grabbed the ziplock baggy full of red Life Savers he'd hidden there and hopped back down. He set the bag in front of Steve. "Here. Have a couple, then go lay down."

Steve stared at the bag, then up at Bucky. "So _that's_ where you hid all the red ones," he said, managing to get enough strength behind his voice to actually sound like he was growling. He grabbed the bag. "I should take these away from you." He looked in the bag before grabbing one. "Are these even still any good?"

"I had one the other day," Bucky said. "Don't think you're getting the bag, asshole, those are mine."

"I'm the one that bought them," Steve said, almost punctuating each word.

Bucky knew with how cranky Steve's infection was making him that he risked life and limb saying what was about to come out of his mouth, but he did it anyway. Giving Steve probably the biggest asshole grin he ever had in his life, he said, "I know, and you told me to help myself. So I did."

The look on Steve's face was worth any threat to Bucky's bodily integrity. It'd been a long time since Steve had given him that look, especially to such severity. It was all Bucky could do to keep from laughing as Steve took a very deep breath, exhaled, stared at Bucky with that unchanging expression, then took a couple more deep breaths before dropping the bag of candy on the table. "You know, I don't have to be the only one in pain," he said, threat turning into more a promise.

Bucky made a point of considering that for a couple seconds. "Well, true, you don't have to be, but remember, if we're both in pain, we're shit out of luck when we need someone to go find the Tylenol or throw something at the neighborhood dogs when they won't stop barking and making our heads hurt more."

Steve's expression lost some of the edge of a desire to hurt Bucky very badly, but he still looked damn annoyed. "Your logic is not working to make me want to hurt you less." He looked at the bag of candy, then at the Life Saver in his hand. "Isn't this the bag you sat on?" His face twisted into a look of disgust.

"I did not sit on it," Bucky said, giving Steve a patiently tolerant look. "They were behind my back. I promise there's no butt germs involved. And if you're seriously worried about that, then I'm sending you back to elementary school to grow up some more."

With a sigh, Steve's body language relaxed, his mood appearing to return to its former cranky resignation to being sick. "No, it's the principle of the matter. You sat on my candy."

The absurdity of that statement almost made Bucky laugh. "You mean my candy."

"At best, I mean _our_ candy," Steve said. "I bought it for us, not for you to steal all the red ones like we were back in seventh grade." He popped the candy into his mouth with the look of a man who didn't feel well and was hanging onto whatever stupid thing would make him feel better.

Bucky's big brother instincts to make everything fluffy bunnies and shiny unicorns for his family kicked back in, making him want to make Steve happy again. At least as happy as he could be while sick. Without a word, he walked back into the kitchen, found another ziplock bag and brought it back over to the table and proceeded to dump half the Life Savers into the new bag. He handed that bag to Steve. "Here. Now you have some."

Steve looked shocked as he took the bag, then looked up at Bucky. "I think that is the first time you've actually shared the cherry candy."

Bucky scowled. "It is not. You know I haven't done that since high school."

Steve held up the bag he just got handed. "Except for when I bought these."

After a pause, Bucky had to concede that. "Okay, true, but I was mostly doing it to make things like the old times. There wasn't much that was at the time." The unspoken part of that thought was that he'd been trying desperately to prove to Steve that he was still worth having to put up with new idiosyncrasies that had been foreign to Bucky's personality before Hydra got their hands on him.

That, and it was funny.

Steve got a tired-looking half smile on his face. "Yeah, after I stopped being annoyed, it was kinda nice to see you acting more like yourself than you had been."

"See? So be happy. Take your candy and go lay down, you'll feel better."

Steve studied his bag of candy, then looked at the couch. After a long moment where he either was giving Bucky's statement very slow consideration, or his brain had skipped off to the second star to the right, he sighed. "Yeah. Let me finish this candy. Probably wouldn't help me feel better if I choked on it while I was asleep."

Bucky hooked his foot around a chair leg and pulled it over to him, flopping down in the chair. "Captain America, brought down by a piece of hard candy. That'd be one for the headlines."

That seemed to amuse Steve enough to get him to laugh a bit. "And suddenly Life Savers becomes America's most wanted."

Bucky moved his bag of candy over by his tablet. "Glad I don't have to hide that anymore," he said. "Getting a piece without you noticing was getting annoying."

"Forgive me for wanting you to share," Steve said, sounding not at all sorry.

"Yeah, okay, but only since you apologized," Bucky said. He frowned as he heard the distinct crunch of hard candy being chewed before it should be, and stared at Steve. "Steve. You don't chew hard candy. You're missing the point."

"The longer it takes me to eat this dumb thing, the longer it is before I can lay down, and my ear hurts enough for me to admit that it does," Steve protested.

That worried Bucky. Steve had whined about it earlier, but he'd also just woken up and was run down from the pain. He'd had a bit of time to become more alert, and therefore time to pull out some of his old excuses he'd use when he had an asthma attack, or his back was hurting him, or any number of the larger things he dealt with. Without having to deal with them on top of the ear infection, he probably had a bit more wherewithal to put on a brave face. He'd certainly been acting like he was in a bit less pain, just still cranky.

So Steve actually admitting to pain, without being overly whiny, meant that his ear _really_ hurt. And Bucky hated feeling helpless to make that go away.

Remembering something else that Bruce had suggested, he got up. "Wait there," he said, heading for the hallway again without explanation. Steve called after him to demand something that was not coming, but he pretty quickly gave up. Steve knew that Bucky wasn't going to answer that demand.

Bucky dug into their linen closet and got out a washcloth to make a warm compress out of. After soaking it with warm water and squeezing out the excess water, he returned to Steve, who didn't look very happy. "Here." He handed Steve the washcloth.

Steve took the washcloth. "You know, your habit of ignoring questions is annoying," he said. "Now leave me alone, I'm going to lay down. If I'm going to be sick, I'm not going to be upright for it."

"Whine bitch moan," Bucky said, trying to be flippant to hide his concern and to make Steve feel like nothing was particularly worrisome about the situation he was in.

Steve gave him a petulant look, then shuffled over to the couch and made himself comfortable under the blanket, the washcloth resting where his ear, jaw and throat all met.

Feeling that Bucky had done all he could to help Steve, he sighed, looking around the small living area that was basically one giant room that shifted from living room to dining room to kitchen in a gradient instead of with obvious points of separation. Beyond the carpet changing to tile with the kitchen, that is. Sometimes Bucky thought they should move to a bigger place, but they didn't really need it.

And a guilty little part of him at the back of his mind knew that if they changed their living arrangements, the sleeping arrangements would change, too, and Bucky's overactive paranoia and protective streak wasn't ready for that. It was dumb, and while he didn't really need that emotional support anymore, he still had the irrational fear that if he wasn't there as close as possible, something could happen and Steve might not survive.

Even with friends now in Tony and Pepper, Bucky still felt too alone at the idea of losing the only thing left of his life before the fall. Before Hydra. Before the Winter Soldier. Before Captain America and the Howling Commandos had plastered his face into the public eye. Back when he was just Bucky, and Steve was just Steve.

Bucky wasn't quite willing to stop being that protective. He couldn't afford to lose that last, precious thing in his life.

Hell. His mind was way too active for Stupid O' Clock in the morning. He needed a distraction from his worry and fussiness. He gave the coffee maker a considering look. He could skip the coffee, since he hated that machine. It wasn't like the caffeine did anything beyond placebo anyway. But on the other hand, quietly swearing at it while trying to figure out how it worked might be entertaining for a few minutes.

That decided it, and he got up, heading to the kitchen to make some coffee. After prepping the coffee, he stared at the buttons on the machine. It was far from complicated like some more modern coffee makers; Bucky wasn't sure, but he thought their coffee maker was from the early part of the twenty-first century. It was certainly outdated by modern standards. The problem was that the damn buttons never worked. Whenever he pushed them, they didn't respond. Steve managed to get it brewing on a daily basis, but Bucky suspected that Steve offered burnt sacrifices to the coffee machine gods to do that.

He really wished that Steve would either get a new one, or find an old percolator like what they used way back when.

Doubting those actually existed anymore outside of museums, Bucky surrendered himself to dealing with whatever monstrosity Steve picked out and then refused to junk when it stopped working.

Finally getting the coffee brewing, Bucky set about his normal day, the only thing different was keeping quieter than normal to let Steve sleep, and occasionally checking on Steve to make sure he hadn't died in his sleep or something awful like that. Even though he knew that was about as brilliant as a flashlight that had almost dead batteries. There was light there, but not much.

A couple hours passed before he heard Steve making noises of waking up. He glanced over just in time to see Steve grab the probably cool by now compress and drop it on the coffee table and sit up. "Good morning, sunshine," Bucky said. "Feeling any better?"

Steve grunted. "I'll tell you in a few minutes." He rubbed his ear. "Nope. Still hurts. I hate life and want to make you suffer with me, because sharing is caring and I want to care about you."

"Throwing my own logic back at me? Well played." Bucky set aside his tablet. He'd finally started reading the Game Of Thrones books, which were a million times better than the books he'd been reading before that. But his page could stay dog-eared for a few minutes while he made sure Steve was okay.

"Your logic is twisted, Bucky," Steve said, rolling his head and cracking his neck. "And it frequently causes me pain. I have to benefit from it some time."

Bucky smiled. "You've benefited from it plenty. It usually got us out of bad situations in the Army."

Steve didn't answer for a moment, then looked over at Bucky with a look that hovered between amused and aggravated. "You did have some creative ideas, I'll give you that."

"And name one time it failed us."

"Just one?"

Bucky made an unhappy noise. "Okay, there were a couple times," he admitted, refusing to confess to more than that."

The amused and aggravated look faded into one that Bucky recognized, one that said that Steve's guilt complex was rearing its ugly head. "Better than most of my ideas. Those ended up either being 'bash the bad guys with a stick' or flying across mountains to attack a train and getting my best friend killed. You got a better track record."

Bucky felt his heart crack, that brother's drive to make everything better and not being able to. "Steve," he said gently. "Stop that. I know you're Catholic, but you can't let your guilt eat you up like that. Stop dwelling on it, I'm home now, that's what's important. I mean it, if you're just going to start making a beeline for the confessional, I'm going to tell you to go back to sleep until your brain starts working right again."

Steve acted properly contrite and a bit amused at his own idiocy, something he did frequently. "I'm not Catholic anymore," he said, completely failing to address Bucky's point.

But Bucky recognized that tone, and that body language; he knew Steve had heard it, and had acknowledged it, and had given the victory point to Bucky. "Okay, last I knew, you were." He motioned to the seat next to him. "Want some breakfast?" He glanced at the clock. "Or lunch, actually."

With a stretch and a yawn, Steve got up, purposely messing up his hair in a failed attempt at unmessing it from sleep. "Food might be good, yeah. What do you want?"

"I'll make us something," Bucky said, getting up and heading for the kitchen. "You sit and by the way, your hair is sticking up in about sixty directions."

Steve lifted one hand to run his fingers through his hair, only managing to sort of tame it. "At least it never looks as ridiculous as your hair." He less sat down in his usual seat as more dropped into it, clearly still not feeling that well.

Bucky figured he'd probably not feel much better until the next day. At least that was nowhere near as long as his ear infections used to last. He'd had migraines that lasted longer.

"My hair is fine," Bucky shot back. He stopped by the fridge. "How hungry are you?"

Steve rested his weight on his right elbow so he could cup his sore ear and still stay upright. "If you mean if you should cook or not, only do it if you want to for you. I'm fine with cold cuts."

"Sandwiches it is, then," Bucky said, digging into the fridge. He sometimes marveled at how big sandwiches had to be for the two of them with their fast metabolism, especially for Steve. He used to barely be able to eat much more than a regular bologna and cheese on wheat, but what they both ate now was just obscene. Bucky made a point of not looking at the cash register when they bought groceries. Even accounting for inflation- which was also obscene -he just wasn't ready to face a grocery bill quite that big.

Balancing both of their plates on one arm, Bucky grabbed Steve's bag of Doritos off to the top of the fridge and dropped it down in front of him, then set down their plates.

Steve jumped when the bag hit the table, blinking in a way that suggested he'd closed his eyes and hadn't noticed Bucky's approach. "Thanks," he said, sitting up straight and eyeing his food. Bucky wasn't sure what the hesitation was for, whether it was because he was feeling headachy from the infection and was having trouble changing his focus to the act of eating, or because he was deciding which to attack first, the sandwich, or the chips.

He must've settled on the chips.

Bucky made a face. "Those are going to kill you, you know," he said.

Steve shot him a dirty look, crunching one chip. "You eat those dumb Little Debbie cakes, those are going to kill you just as quickly," he said.

"Yeah, well, at least those snack cakes will look neat while killing me every Christmas. Variety is the spice of death."

Steve pointed at him with the tip of a chip. "You get way too excited when the Christmas tree-shaped cakes come out. You'd think you were ten instead of almost a hundred."

Bucky picked out a piece of ham from his sandwich, not yet committing himself to eating it while Steve was still giving him reason to have to talk. "There's nothing wrong with enjoying dumb things about Christmas. At least I don't buy them until December."

"Thank everything for that," Steve said, brushing the fake cheese dust off his fingers. "If you'd modernized yourself that much, I'd have to kick you out of the apartment." He bit into his sandwich.

Bucky stared at him. "I help pay for this place!" he protested, completely indignant. Steve flashed him a smile that only belonged on the face of a bratty little brother around his food. Bucky flipped him off, then grabbed his own sandwich in a sulk.

Steve spent a few hours after lunch sitting up, reading, although his eyes remained half-lidded like they were hurting with each word his brain parsed. Bucky left him alone, knowing that fussing about it was going to piss Steve off, and that it was probably a bit unnecessary. Steve only had an ear infection, and this was hardly like the old days, where Steve's immune system wasn't always the greatest and extreme care was the only way to get rid of illnesses before they caused permanent damage.

But chronic ear infections were what had caused Steve's hearing loss in that ear, so he was a bit overly concerned. Bucky found out later that it was rare for hearing loss due to chronic ear infections to be as permanent as it had been; Steve had just kept winning all the shitty lotteries until Doctor Erskine came along, and thank the god that Bucky didn't believe in for that.

Bucky lowered his tablet when he saw Steve set his book down. He didn't immediately say anything, giving it a moment to see if Steve had set his book down because something Bucky needed to fuss at him for, or if he was just going to get something, like a drink. After Steve sat there for about thirty seconds, staring at the table just past his book, Bucky decided that maybe it was time to fuss. "You okay?"

Steve rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. My eyes are just starting to burn."

"Why don't you go lay down?" Bucky suggested. "Might be time to give you head a break. You can resoak that washcloth in cool water, put it over your eyes."

There was that unhappy and vaguely whiny noise that Steve had been making off and on the whole day again. "I don't want to spend the whole day sleeping."

"Steve, you're sick." Bucky gave him a stern look. "Sleep is good for you when you're sick, you know that." Steve looked like a miserable little puppy being made to stay out in the rain. Bucky pointed at the couch. "Sleep. Before I knock you out."

Steve winced. "Please don't do that," he said. "My ear's ringing enough, thank you."

"So does that mean you'll go lay down?"

Realization dawned on Steve's sick and unhappy face as he realized that he'd just cornered himself. "I hate you."

"That wasn't an answer." Bucky sat back in his chair, crossing his arms with a pointed look on his face.

"Yes, it is," Steve said, marking his place in his book and getting up. "Fine, I'll go lay down. But if I can't sleep tonight because you made me sleep during the day, I'm going to deliriously babble at you all night so that you can't sleep, either."

Bucky shook his head. "Delirious? You're being dramatic again. You have a low-grade fever and an ear infection, you're not going to become delirious from either of those. So shut up and go sleep before I'm forced to smother you."

"You're such a compassionate caretaker," Steve grumbled, walking back over to the couch. He sat down and grabbed the washcloth. "Here." Bucky had just a second to react as Steve tossed it to him. "If you want to do something useful, go wet that down for me."

Bucky stood, heading for the kitchen sink. "Oh, now you decide to be a proper patient and let me do things for you. Too bad you're an asshole about it." Steve made a noise that might've been an attempt at saying something obscene, but the effort to form it into a word had been missing. "Cool water, or warm?" Bucky asked.

"Cool, please."

Bucky soaked and wrung out the washcloth, folding it into something less of a wadded mess of damp material, and walked over to where Steve was and handed it to him. "Here, Prince Charming."

Steve took it with a quiet grunt. "Thank you, Snow White."

"Now, you sleep, and I'll go back to scrubbing the castle floors because my step-mother thinks she's prettier than I am. The bitch."

Steve chuckled, a sort of airy sound that suggested he was doing his best to be amused and still not make his ear pop or ring at the same time. "Bucky, this is why people ask questions about us," he said. "But thanks, I needed the laugh."

Bucky smiled. "I could tell," he said. "If you need something, let me know."

"All right." Steve didn't say anything more, just shifted around on the couch until he was comfortable and put the washcloth over his eyes. Bucky wasn't sure when he dozed off, but it probably didn't take long.

The rest of the day crept by. Bucky spent most of the time reading, although he checked the news from time to time, just to keep updated. He hoped nothing came up that might land them a job while Steve was sick. The dumbass would refuse to turn down the job, and he wouldn't let Bucky go it alone.

Bucky cooked a late dinner, putting it off, despite his hunger, to see if Steve would wake up and want some. After Bucky had finished his own food, he woke up Steve to make him eat. Steve seemed like he was feeling better, even if he was a bit groggy. He didn't complain of any pain or ringing in his ear, and he didn't even wince when he yawned, a good sign, in Bucky's mind.

Steve stayed up the last few hours between dinner and their normal bedtime, reading, and this time looking more alert. Bucky was actually impressed that he didn't look terribly run down when Bucky glanced at the time and declared bed time.

"We should use that rubbing alcohol one more time before bed," Bucky said.

Steve drew in a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to argue. "Fine."

"You've not complained once this evening since you ate. Don't start now."

"My ear doesn't hurt that much anymore," Steve said. "I just think that stuff's cold."

Bucky turned off his tablet. "Of course it's cold." He stood. "As far as your ear, as nice as it is to hear that, I don't particularly care for it to start hurting again because we ignored it. And if you try to run while I get the alcohol, I will hunt you down."

"I know you will," Steve grumbled at him. But he didn't make any move to get up.

Deciding that Steve was going to stay put, Bucky ducked into the bathroom and grabbed the rubbing alcohol off the counter, before heading back out to the dining area. Steve had already grabbed a tissue and folded it into a three-layer thick rectangle and held it out to Bucky as soon as Bucky neared.

This time, Bucky didn't have to bitch at Steve to hold still and quit whining; Steve remained still and silent, and cooperated the whole time. Which made the process far quicker.

Bucky could tell that it'd been a long day; neither one was speaking as they headed back towards the bedroom, Steve walking with his head tilted to one side and looking completely ridiculous, and Bucky with Steve's bedding in his arms. Bucky had spent all day internally wound up with worry, and while Steve had slept a lot, it probably wasn't the best sleep he'd ever had, and being sick, even with extra sleep, was exhausting all by itself. When they got tired, they started moving on autopilot and there wasn't much talking involved.

Steve paused outside of the bathroom, tilting his head the other way to let the rubbing alcohol drain into the tissue. Bucky glanced back at him, wondering, but doubting, if he should wait. Steve waved him off, disappearing into the bathroom, and Bucky went on his way back to bed.

He quickly changed back into his sleep clothes, and started trying to make order out of the mess of bedding on Steve's bed. He probably didn't have to, and in fact, he knew Steve was probably going to be better by tomorrow morning anyway, which meant he was more than feeling well enough now to do it himself, but if nothing else, Bucky didn't want to just get into bed and fall asleep without making sure Steve was okay.

"Seriously, Bucky?"

Bucky glanced over to see Steve in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. "What?"

"You don't need to make my bed for me," Steve said with exaggerated patience.

Bucky looked back to the mostly straightened blanket, then over at Steve again. "Excuse me for doing something nice for you." He finished unfolding the side, then backed away. "And too bad, I did it anyway. Go to sleep."

"You've been saying that to me a lot today," Steve said, undoing some of Bucky's hard work and moving the covers to crawl under them.

Bucky made himself comfortable on his own bed, wishing for not the first time that he could do more than lay on one side. "Because you're dumb and wouldn't do it if you weren't forced to," he said around a yawn.

"I'm not that dumb," Steve said. "You sleep too, because if you stay up to fuss at me, I swear, I'm smothering you."

"Shut up, Steve," Bucky said, pretending to sound half-asleep.

Despite Steve's warning, Bucky did stay awake awhile longer, just keeping an ear open for Steve waking up. He knew he was being a bit overboard by that point, but once upon a time, that level of alertness was necessary, and it wasn't a habit that he'd been given practice at breaking. He did finally drift off around two in the morning, according to the alarm clock.

It was the smell of coffee that woke him up. He opened one eye, noticing two things: first, that Steve was not in bed, and second, that the alarm clock said it was about six. So four hours of sleep. Well, he'd survived on less, and coffee meant that Steve must be feeling better.

Time to go find out for certain.

After messing around in the bathroom, mostly brushing his teeth- morning mouth was really nasty -he wandered out to the living area, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"You look tired," Steve commented, looking over his shoulder at Bucky. "Let me guess, you stayed up late, even after I told you not to."

"You going to smother me?" Bucky asked, passing the table to go get his own cup of coffee.

"I might," Steve said.

Bucky flashed Steve an evil look as he poured his coffee, then set the pot back on the burner and joined Steve at the table. "You can do it after I have coffee and regain the will to fight back."

"So how late did you stay up?" Steve asked.

"How're you feeling this morning?" Bucky asked, refusing to answer.

"Like I was never sick," Steve said. "And I'm taking your lack of an answer to mean that you stayed up way too damn late."

"I slept when I slept," Bucky said. "You're not getting anything more out of me."

"Pleading the Fifth again?"

"If I were awake enough to think of that, yes. Easier to just say that I deny everything." Bucky took a sip of scalding hot coffee, making a face and looking at Steve. "How have you not burned all the skin in your mouth from drinking this shit before it's cool?"

Steve glanced at his coffee cup that looked about half empty. "Because I hate coffee," he said. "So the faster I drink it, the faster it's gone."

Bucky could do nothing but stare at Steve, coffee mug against his lips, mid-drink. He swallowed down his drink quickly and lowered his cup. "You hate coffee, and yet you drink it."

Steve looked a bit sheepish. "It's all we had for caffeine in the Army," he said.

For a few seconds, Bucky couldn't even think a reply, much less say one. Finally, his disbelief managed to force a few words out. "Steve. Caffeine doesn't affect you. You don't need it to wake up."

Silence passed. Steve slowly looked down at his coffee mug. "So. Um. I guess I feel kinda dumb now." While Bucky laughed, Steve gave him a dirty look. "Why didn't you point this out sooner?"

"I didn't know you were holding onto that dumb habit," Bucky said. "But now that you realize, we can throw this shit out, right? Your piece of crap coffee maker makes the worst goop in the world."

"Have we honestly been drinking coffee every day for the last year and a half out of habit?" Steve demanded.

"Yes," Bucky said, laughing and feeling very stupid, but mostly amused. "God, let's dump this out and go on our run."

When Steve didn't get up, just slid his cup closer to the center of the table, Bucky looked at him suspiciously, doing the same, not sure what Steve was about to do or say, but he had a feeling he'd want his coffee out of the way. Steve looked at him, looking as serious as death for a second, then broke out into a childish grin. "Race ya," he said, getting up and sprinting for the bedroom.

Bucky swore, jumping up, pushing with one foot off his chair, onto the back of the couch, and then right into Steve, knocking them both into the far wall. He got to his feet first, heading for the bedroom. "Keep up, old man!"

"You're older, you jackass!" Steve yelled, following right on his heels.

Sick or not, Steve was always a pleasant rose to be around.


End file.
